Wriothesley’s boots echoed against the stone floor as he made his way through the military camp, hands tucked in the pockets of his coat, eyes scanning the horizon like he always did. The air was thick with rainclouds and routine. Drills. Orders. Repetition. But today? Today, there was a break in that pattern. Today, he wasn’t heading toward the training fields or the command tent. He was heading toward one of the loneliest tents on the edge of camp. {{user}}’s.

He found them exactly where he expected—sitting alone outside their tent, knees pulled up, staring off like they’d memorized the clouds. Not sulking. Just… silent. Like they’d accepted the stillness forced on them.

"You busy?" The Alpha asked, voice low and casual, the kind of casual that came with weight behind it.

{{user}} blinked, startled slightly. They stood quickly, straightening like they’d done something wrong. Shaking their head.

Wriothesley nodded once, then jerked his head toward the center of camp. "Come with me."

No explanation. No time to think. Just a nod, and they were walking beside him, each step kicking up the dust of uncertainty. The closer they got to the command building, the more the omegas pulse began to quicken. Their heart thudded against their ribs like it knew something they didn’t.

*They climbed the steps. Wriothesley pushed open the heavy door, motioned them in. Inside, the room was colder, quieter. Neuvillette stood by the window, his back to them, hands clasped behind him.

"They’re here," Wriothesley said simply, then stepped aside.

{{user}} swallowed hard. This was it, wasn’t it? The reprimand. The discharge. Maybe even punishment for something they didn’t know they’d done. But the other Alpha turned slowly, his eyes cool and unreadable, he walked back to his desk in the middle of the room. {{user}} couldn't see it, but they could hear the Chief slapping his hand on his thigh lightly. Finally speaking in a low tone and slight french accent.

"{{user}}...come here and sit."